Sally and Scout
by Phoenix of the Waves
Summary: Scout meets Sally and discovers the beautiful girl's most horrible secret.


The shrill bells rang, its hollow and half-dead sound resonating through the gray walls of the drab school-house. The tall, pretty girl in room 101 stood quickly, swung her already-packed-up black school-bag onto her shoulder and sauntered bravely out of the room. She paused once on her way out of the door to press her rose-petal mouth to the thin one of a thick, tan jock who was waiting for her in the hallway. She left a deep red smear on his lips.

"Hey, baby," he grumbled in his deep voice, "Wanna go to my place after practice?"

The girl shook her head and sent him a meaningful glance with her sahara-brown eyes, eyes as fierce as the wood crumbling under the weight of a million flames. She turned and walked away from him, her head hung just slightly lower than before, her dark hair swishing about her waist.

"Sally! Sally, baby, wait-"

But she did not heed, just quickened her pace.

"Your old man's a bastard, girl! Don't go back there 'cause of him!"

The girl turned, her eyes burning and blaring like the fire that made her break. She opened her mouth to retort, but then closed it again, her glossy-pink lips pressing tightly against one-another. She shook her head once at him, deep disapproval in the motion, the turned once again and sprinted outside.

Scout Finch had just stepped onto the dry dirt road leading to the gray schoolhouse. She was bored, incredibly bored. Atticus had taken Jem to the courthouse to watch a trial concerning one especially foolish drunken man, hoping to teach Jem a bit about being a lawyer. Scout had begged to come, but Atticus had told her that "it would all be quite boring for you, I'm sure." And so she had stayed home with Cal, who was not at all an ideal playmate. Scout had decided to walk the streets of Maycomb and look for something interesting to do, but it seemed that she had walked as far as an adjacent town, for she did not recognize the large building close in front of her. Desperate for adventure, though, the young girl continued walking towards it.

Right as she was beginning to get near enough to the schoolhouse to see a large red banner reading "Go Wildcats" positioned above the large double doors, Scout saw a single figure walking briskly away from her. A playmate? Maybe. And if not, at least she might be able to pick a good fight. Scout began to sprint towards the stranger.

Sally was angry. Angry like a thunderstorm. But still, more than infuriated, she was worried. What if Daddy was angry at her for being home late? Even if "late" just meant a few minutes after he expected her to be back, she would still be in for a good, big-

The beautiful girl's thoughts were interrupted by a cry from a voice that seemed to come from behind her.

"Hey... Hey, wait!"

Oh great, she thought glumly, another match to set me bursting into flames, once again. Sally quickened her pace. She heard her follower match it. She glanced quickly over her shoulder to see a young, plain girl tromping behind her. She wasn't in the mood for baby-sitting, but the girl was persistent.

"I just wanna ask you somethin'!" she exclaimed, her words tinged by the tone of the South.

Sally ignored her, but Scout pushed ahead, her bare feet pad, pad, padding, quicker, quicker, quicker on the dirt road until she was close enough to the older girl to touch her. She did so, grabbing Sally's black-clothed arm. In response, Sally went rigid, stiff but frail like a dried rose-petal, and pulled away.

"What?" she murmured, irritated."I've gotta get home. Daddy'll- I mean, I-I've just gotta."

What in God's name was wrong with her? Had she really just almost told this little stranger her most important and horrifying secret. The girl's questions kept on coming, though.

"Why do ya gotta go home? I-"

She was done with this, done! Sally shook her head and turned to leave, but the other girl took ahold of her shoulder. Sally stopped and bit her lip to keep from screaming out of pure, cutting frustration and fear, fear of what awaited her when she finally escaped and reached home. Scout felt the tension in the older girl, and brought her hand back to hanging limply at her side.

"I ain't gonna do anythin' bad to you! I just wanted to see if you wanted to play, because Atticus, he's my daddy, and Jem, who's my older brother, 'r out to the court, and-"

What was she doing standing here listening to this kid blabber on and on. Defiance flashed through Sally's mind.

"No. I need to go. Let go of me."

"Please? C'mon!" In desperation for a playmate, Scout tugged pleadingly on Sally's thick sweatshirt's sleeve, revealing Sally's pale arm, along with a large, purple-blue-black bruise like an ugly stain on smooth silk. Scout's eyes widened, and Sally turned away, inexplicably embarrassed. As she had expected, the younger girl was already asking the questions.

"What happened to ya!? That looks like one o' Mayella's bruises, and Bob Ewell was an angry man. At least, that's what Atticus said 'bout him. Think he meant that Bob hit Mayella. Wouldn't be surprised as-"

"Let go of me."

Sally'ss tone was flat and dead. Scout plowed on, undeterred.

"Tell me how you that a'ful bruise, then!"

If she was going to get away, Sally decided that she was going to have to satisfy this little monster. And the only way to do this was with a lie.

"I-I fell. I was jumping rope on the schoolyard and I- well, I tripped on the rope and- and landed on my arm. Ok? Got it?"

Scout shook her head. Did this girl really think that she was going to fall for that? Just because she was maybe a bit little didn't mean that she was stupid.

"That's a lie! No girly jump-rope could give your skin that color!" she declared."

Sally looked at Scout with disgust, then at the little girl's hand still on her sleeve.

"Leave me alone, alright? If you don't let go right now, I-I'll hit you..."

Even before she finished her sentence, Sally knew that her threat was pathetic. And so did Scout.

"Fine! Hit me! I can take it, 'specially from a girl like you!" she declared sassily, her face reddening.

And suddenly, just as quickly as her flair had jumped into her spirit, it left, leaving Sally feeling tired and deflated. She sighed.

"I don't want to fight..." she whispered, almost to herself. But Scout heard all the same. Obviously, her fight hadn't left her as Sally's had.

"Well then don't!" exclaimed the little girl, "But tell me where that bruise came from."

Sally couldn't talk, so many emotions fluttered nervously on broken wings from her heart to her mind. And so she remained silent. After a moment, Scout, who couldn't stand silence, piped up.

"I just want to help you!" she said, almost whining.

And then all at once, it was just too much. It was too much for Sally to hold in her arms. She was tired, exhausted, and she couldn't muster another fib. She burst into guilty tears. And before she knew what was happening, her deepest and darkest secrets were spilling from her beautiful lips.

"H-he never hits me hard," she gasped between sobs, "Never. Never hard."

Scout's mind whirled, a flurry of panic and an unbelieving surprise.

"Y-you mean your daddy... he's beatin' you? You've gotta, you've gotta-" she stammered, but Sally continued on speaking, seeming to not even hear the words of the younger girl.

"Any my mama, she always puts lard where the bruises are. Even though it never hurts too much... not so much..."

Scout was appalled. It seemed almost as if she was playing the role of grown-up now. She couldn't do this alone, though, couldn't- no, wouldn't know how to stop this girl's daddy from turning his daughter's porcelain skin to darkness.

"'S not ok," Scout began, "I-I've gotta tell Atticus... I'll go find him at the courthouse a-and he'll know what to do... he'll get your daddy in jail and then... and then you'll be alright... you'll be o.k..."

Scout's voice trailed off as she slowly released Sally from her grasp and began to wander away back towards Maycomb. And maybe, maybe Sally should have let her go right then and there, let this young stranger get her father sent away behind bars. But she couldn't. Because however little Sally wanted to admit it, she was afraid. Afraid of the look on her mothers face, the hurt in her eyes. Afraid of the fist of her father. Afraid of the slow, disapproving shake of her father's head. And so Sally darted to Scout side and grabbed the other girl's arm in her smooth hand. For a moment, Scout and Sally were silent, staring down at the hand on the arm, realizing the irony in the fact that now the girl who only moments ago wanted to escape was holding onto her captor. Sally felt a rush of shame, and let Scout's limp arm fall to her side. Scout stayed where she stood.

And then the pleading started.

"Don't do that... please, don't. Mama'll hate me, so'll Daddy. And it's not h-his fault, I-I mean it's because he loves me too much that he-he just doesn't want me to run away like all o' his sisters did. They hurt him... really hurt him, and I-I can't do the same."

At the sound of there words, all helplessness that Scout might have felt disappeared in a flash.

"But he's hittin' you! That ain't right! It's like, even though Mayella lied, her daddy was a bad, bad man and it was bad, real bad that he hit her. I-It's not right. Your daddy, he's a bad man."

And suddenly, Sally was defiant and bold once again, her beautiful dark eyes flashing.

"Don't say that 'bout my daddy!" she growled, "Like I said, he loves me, and that's-that's what a daddy's supposed to do."

Even through this anger, Scout picked up on a hint of confusion, of the raging and pulling inside of the older girl's head. And she wanted to show her what was real, what was right.

And so Scout gathered herself, stretching to her full height and, while she still only reached Sally's shoulder, she declared, "He don't love you so much if he hits you like he does."

Sally's response was quick and fiery.

"Don't say that! It's not right to tell me if my daddy loves me or not. You've never even met him!"

But this wasn't enough for Scout. She couldn't take it anymore. She needed help. She needed her father.

"I don't care what you say! I'm telling Atticus, and he's gonna make it better for you an' help you see that your daddy's doin' wrong!

Scout turned away from the girl with the trails of mascara sliding down her porcelain face and ran, ran, ran, until she was just a speck in the distance, and then invisible to Sally's eye.

And all the while, the gorgeous girl muttered this phrase under her breath, her suddenly-white lips moving almost mechanically:

"He never hits me hard. Never hits me hard... Never... never... never."

And although Sally would have liked to run, to go home and curl into her worn blankets and sob, she stayed rooted where she was. Because somewhere deep inside, she saw the light.


End file.
